Wrong turn
by SomecallmeMichelle
Summary: Trigger Warning: Rape. The final days of a murderer caught by the BAU Team. Oneshot. M.


His grunts could be heard amidst the grunts of pain of the person below him. He had to admit, he usually didn't go back to such primal instincts such primal- animalistic. - visceral really feelings so early in his craft, but he couldn't resist it.

She was soft, soft against his skin, and her tears were salty, he knew right then and there that he was hurting her, but he knew that she'd grow to love him. - They all had. And if they didn't...well…- He did a sawing motion with his hands across his neck, increasing his thrusts and letting out a primal scream.

This was great. He felt like a man, he felt like he was in power, he felt like nobody would ever stop him...after all he had planned it perfectly, taking the woman in the dark of the night, and though she screamed, cried, nobody could possibly hear her.

That was when the door burst in.

:

:

The name of the team was quickly uttered as the suspect tried to react, unfortunately he was still firmly inside of the young woman. He quickly tried to remove himself from her, after all, being in an underground bunker, with a screaming girl didn't bode well for his pleas of innocence. But the laser pointer of several weapons amidst his bare back told him that it was too late. He knew there was no escape other than the one they had entered through, no way to run through a secret hatch, he had made sure of that himself so that no girl could run away.

Sweating he start back pedaling grabbing his pants along the way. As usual whenever he came to this place he brought no identification documents with him, but he knew that if they had gotten this far they already knew who he was, there was no point in trying to escape now. Tensely he asked.

"May I...May I put my pants on?"

An officer, who knew, his name? Approached him and started to frisk him, it felt uncomfortable, and it was done with much too violence, much more violence than needed, no doubt in an attempt to try and teach him a lesson. He pressed a thin smile against his lips. - _Lovely._ \- he thought.

When at last he was given permission to put his pants back on he was guided out of the way and through the woods. Woods he had scoured through a million times before, how many girls had he dragged here, and yelled at? Now he was the one being yelled at, in the opposite direction. The strange symmetry of the situation made him tense up. For he knew what he did with those girls when he got them to their hole, and he knew what to expect.

He wasn't expectant of the moment where they left him of the handcuffs and into a cell, but he knew that he had to reveal fast. Whenever they arrived he decided to cooperate. It wasn't a thing many serial killers did, but he had already been caught, and he had foolishly been hiding the bodies around the bunkers, so there wouldn't be much time before they would be found...the only reason the first had been discovered had been because he hadn't had time to hid it properly and someone had drawn up a pattern.

Spencer Reid was the man, thin, he wasn't much of them man the killer thought he would be, in fact he looked downright scrawny, but as soon as he started talking about possible patterns and how he found out how he had discovered him, he couldn't help but scoff. A typical pattern obsessed, anything but mentally challenged person, this Reid, Spencer of name, had figured him out.

He liked them blonde, young preferably, and he had killed them plenty, then of course there had been the field team and the support team, which apparently had just been one person, he was collaborating, and they spoke, proud of themselves, catching yet another. They all wanted to know his motives. As if he needed one.

Funny.

Or at least it would be if the man found anything funny, the man wondered why they were still there, they had cracked the case, surely he wasn't the only serial killer in such a vast land, why did they need to learn his motives? And how could they really understand them when…

They had caught him in the act, and he had even revealed the localization of all the other corpses, all 8 of them, so why did this Reid, Dr, or whatever, and this Hotchner, want him to reveal his motivation?

He supposed it would make it that much easy to condemn him, though it was a pretty case and clear case. But he had a feeling it was more personal curiosity than anything.

The man had wanted them to love him...and when they had shown repulsion, he had ended them, it was a routine he was used to, he was sort of good looking, though countless days in the cell, with the lowest quality of hair products had diminished that beauty, and the county jail cell didn't do him any favors. Could they, surely they wouldn't understand what it was to never feel the love of a mother's touch right?

Yes it all came down to mother issue's, he himself had stifled the life of his cold, uncaring mother 13 years to that year, and why not? She had never been proper to him , she had fed him, and given him clothes, but never care or much else. It was the oldest reason in the world.

As soon as they figured this out they seemed to lose interest in the case and moved on. Repulsion replacing curiosity. After all he had killed 9. Now 10 people.

And as he was stabbed from behind, from a makeshift shiv made from a toothbrush, like a cliché prison movie he couldn't help but marvel and think, of how things could have been different. The blood rushing out of him, the guards staring to watch, not caring for the life of the murderer, the other murderers giggling with glee, the sounds being drowned out.

It was over for him, and as he lay dying down, he remembered, remembered the salty tears, from his childhood and the ones he caused in his adulthood, and he wondered, where he had taken the wrong turn.


End file.
